


Raspberry Tart

by fabula_prima



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bath Sex, Bathing/Washing, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Lingerie, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 18:58:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18079076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabula_prima/pseuds/fabula_prima
Summary: It's been a long winter, but spring rain is finally falling and Bronn is home.





	Raspberry Tart

Winter lingered far too long for Josie’s liking. Granted, every winter in Skyhold froze the very life out of her, but she could hardly complain these days, imagining Bronn out on the road to Redcliffe, or worse, on his way to the Emprise. She always said a quiet prayer for the safety and comfort of all the Inquisition’s agents when they traveled, but now that she had grown so attached to their devil-may-care leader, she fretted more than ever. The current journey of his had begun in snow, prompting everyone to swear that spring had abandoned Thedas. But the world was finally thawing, she thought, as she watched the first irises shoot leaves through the courtyard’s winter grass. And her dear had returned at last from a campaign that seemed as interminable as winter. 

She gave herself the day off and spent most of the morning in his quarters, prepping the fireplace and sending requests to the kitchen staff for those little raspberry tarts he liked so well. But the primary task was requisitioning a large, copper tub, enchanted with the help of Dagna to keep the water at a near scalding temperature. She sifted through her personal cache of herbs and oils, eventually settling on a small satchel of sage leaves and citron peels she had stowed away from Antiva. She thought they’d pair well with the cedar wood burning in the fireplace and the aroma of leather and tobacco that always hovered around Bronn.

When all of that was squared away, she changed into the most nerve-wracking element of the afternoon: a black sheer robe, embellished with lace, that Leliana had talked her into during their last trip to Val Royeaux. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, tempted more than once to put smalls on beneath the airy garment. But she liked the drape of it and the figure she cut, and she knew he’d like the flash of her thigh. It was modest, in and of itself, and only startling once she opened it. But that would be for Bronn to do. Imagining such a moment, his rough fingers sliding and snagging against the material and his loving sigh at the sight of her, licked heat just beneath her skin. Adrenaline started coursing through her, so she opened the doors of the balcony to take in a deep breath. She expected chilly air, but was met with a flush of cool humidity. The sky had gone heavy gray and she could smell rain, hear its distant fall, hidden by some other mountaintop nearby. And then his voice, and heavy steps coming up the long staircase to his room.

“Josie? By the Stone I hope you’re here and I hope there’s–” He had reached the top and stood in awe of the scene before him: a crackling fire, steam drifting up from the largest tub he’d ever seen, and Josephine Montilyet wearing just a wisp of fabric and a hopeful smile.

“Fucking hell, you’re a sight for sore eyes.” He marched over, more swiftly than she was prepared for, and pulled her into a desperate kiss. The contrast between the scruff on his chin and the soft pout of his lips plucked at tight little strings in her limbs. And when he kissed her like this, slow and savoring and forceful enough that she had to cling to him for balance, her left foot always lifted back of its own accord. She loved the surprise of it every time.

She held his face and leaned back gently. “What did you hope there’d be?”

He was dazed and hungry, eager to continue kissing. “What?”

“When you came in, you said you hoped I was here and hoped there was…?”

He frowned, gripped the sides of her waist, and pulled her flush against him and swayed just slightly enough that her robe flitted against her legs. “There’s a fire, there’s a bath–bless you for that–and there’s you in this marvelous bit of seduction that has neither buttons nor clasps. There’s nothing else at all in this world, as far as I’m concerned.”

She had an arsenal of witty responses that she would have used with anyone else. But Bronn had the honor of her amorous silence and heated stare instead.

“Bath first?” she suggested, tugging at his jerkin’s top buckle.

“Only if you join me.”

She undressed him carefully, pressing fingers and lips to each patch of newly exposed skin. He was grimy and sweaty and she didn’t care because he had been gone and in danger for more than a month. She kissed the underside of his jaw, desperately in need of a shave. She kissed the starting edge of the black tattoo on his chest that only halfway distracted from the countless scars and cuts he bore. He was thinner around the middle than when he’d left, and she kissed him there too as he lifted his undershirt over his head. The job took a toll on his body, and she wished–not for the first time–that she had a bit of magic in her fingertips that skated over his bruised ribs.

He unfastened his trousers and dropped them, then walked naked as his name day to the tub. Bronn had an arrogance about him that had infuriated Josie in the early days at Haven. But he had a self-possessed confidence about himself too that had her absolutely wet. He stepped into the tub as she tried to tame the impatient urge to be ravished. When the hot water lapped around his thighs, he hissed through his teeth, then relaxed into a humming groan as he sat down. He made those same sounds, and the same pleasure pained face every time she came with him buried inside her. She wanted his thoughts to be as distracted as hers. She approached the tub and untied the sash that held her robe together, pausing to make sure he was watching before rolling her shoulders back and toeing the discarded material away.

His eyelids drooped, almost sleepy, and he grunted in satisfaction, just like he grunted after the first bite of a raspberry tart. “Witchcraft,” he whispered, eyes raking over her body. “C’mere, lemme hold you.”

She liked the heat of his stare lingering on her hips, resting on the heavy sway of her breasts. But she was unmade by the warmth of his eyes meeting hers as she slipped into the tub with him. It was like melting, her back against his hard chest, her head reclined on his shoulder. He lifted his hand, pearled with water droplets, and tucked her hair, tied in a messy coif, behind her ear so that he could press his cheek to hers. “You’re breathing heavy, you alright?”

She nodded quickly, didn’t trust herself to speak. She was supposed to welcome him home, to comfort and care for him. But he’d spun it all around. He was looking after her, heavy hands ready to tend to her needs. His lips latched onto the shell of her ear and she reached behind herself, between them, seeking his cock. But he stopped her hand, hushed her, and wrapped thick arms around her. “Just let me, love.”

One hand skated over her thigh, the other curved around her breast, thumb rubbing loving circles around her nipple. His hands were hardly delicate, all knobby knuckles and thick callouses. So it was all the more marvelous that he could be graceful with them, so careful. When one of them played at the meeting of her thighs, she pressed back into him and sighed.

“I thought of this when you were away.” She didn’t even mean to say it.

“Thought of what?” So tight to his chest, she felt the words before she heard them and shook her head. “Tell me. Talk to me,” he begged, squeezing the flat of his palm between her legs.

She took a deep breath and spread her thighs just enough to give him room to work. “I thought about you here with me, warm in bed with me.”

He hummed, slipped a finger between her folds and kissed her neck. “Did you think of this exactly? Tell me Josie.”

“Your hands,” she breathed out, lifting her hips. His fingertip teased at her entrance, but she needed more. “Thought of–thought of your hands.”

He sat up a bit, sloshing water around them, improving his reach. One finger slipped into her and a soft laugh escaped him as she clenched around him. “Eager?”

“Sometimes your mouth,” she continued.

So he pressed his mouth, hot against her neck, her shoulder, whatever skin he could reach and she started begging. With his free hand, he drew gentle lines into the outside of her thigh and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Don’t even need my cock, do you? Just fingers and words.”

She couldn’t suppress the whine that leapt from her soul. He was right, the teasing bastard. Just the sound of his voice in a dream and she woke up slick and yearning.

He slipped a second finger into her and pressed deep until she pulled her knee up. “I thought of this while I was away, too. The whole camp knew when I was missing you. And I missed you so often.”

“Bronn!”

“Mm, but thinking don’t compare to this.” He curled his fingers up and in and she gasped, lifted her head from his chest and pulled in on herself.

“Maker preserve–” he was a bastard, undoing her so easily, pulling the Maker’s name from her. And how she loved him for it. She ground herself against the heel of his hand, her ass against his hard cock and he swore as well.

“Most devastating women in all of Thedas and I’ve got my hands full of her.” She didn’t know if he was talking to her or to himself, but it encouraged him and he finally, blissfully pressed his thumb to her clit. She gripped the sides of the tub gracelessly, confident that he’d keep her afloat if she slipped. But all of his attention was focused on the very core of her, varying his touch, pumping his fingers in and out until she was writhing in his arms. “Come for me, love.”

She did. Came with relief and glory and so much giddy love that she imagined herself glowing as she sunk back into him. When she was settled and he was satisfied, he ran his hands down each of her arms, interlocking their fingers and hugging himself around her. He rested his chin on her shoulder and she could feel his smug, youthful grin directed at the side of her face, but the water was still warm and she couldn’t bother to open her eyes. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, sweet and innocent, then rolled his hips up as if to remind her that there was more left to tend to.

Eyes still closed, she breathed in deep, fell drunk on the smell of his sweat and her own perfume turned musky, the cedar logs in the quieting fire, the sweet earthen scent of rain falling soft on the balcony. She leaned her head far back and stretched like a contented cat. “I took the whole day off.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments and kudos are welcomed. Thank you for reading!


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